


Oliver the Copy Guy

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Oliver The ... [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daydreaming, Eye Sex, F/M, Flirting, Frisky!Felicity, Hot Arms Oliver, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: She may have fantasized about the copy guy with the hot arms, but she hadn't expected him to actually say yes...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for reasons, for my fellow bra felons xox

The photocopier was broken _again_.

This would ordinarily make Felicity grumble as she kicked her feet along the basic twill carpet that lined the lower levels of the Kord Industries’ building, but instead, on this surprisingly warm day for early December, the descent of the _demon copier_ on Level 5 into a flood of ominous flashing red lights and a display that was cycling through a multitude of warnings, was making Felicity smile her blush-rose lips as she made her way to her office.

The photocopier was broken again.

She wasn’t still harbouring fantasies of the _demon’s_ demise just because she spent at least one hour a week clearing torn paper from in between its rollers, _oh no_ , the reason for her glee was a much more shallow one.

_Hot Arms the Copy Guy._

She had tried to give him a name during the languid moments that she sat chewing on her pen and staring into a flashing cursor on her monitor, but nothing had ever felt right, and while she knew the badge he wore clipped to his navy short sleeve button-down likely had his name on it, she had never found herself at the right angle or closeness to inspect it.

She could ask Sara on Level 8 she supposed, they had looked rather chummy on a callout a few months ago, but then Sara would want to know why and then Felicity would have to somehow stop her cheeks going that scarlet red and the rapid eye movement thing she always did when she was trying to come up with some valid explanation on the hop.

Because telling Sara that she fancied the hot copier guy was entirely out of the question.

So _Hot Arms_ it was, and it honestly said everything that needed to be said, although _Distractingly Blue Eyes_ would have also been a good code name, because the one time she had been able to get that close to him, albeit because they almost ran into each other going around the same corner, she had come breathtakingly close; so close in fact that she had found herself sighing quite unexpectedly and when he offered a kind apology and nervously brushed his hand through his hair, Felicity hadn’t been able to say anything; no _hi_ , no _that’s okay_ , no _sorry_ , – nothing.

It had been the most mortifying experience of the last four months after _Hot Arms_ had become their new copier technician and Felicity had kept somewhat of a watching distance ever since – which was actually quite a feat given how she could easily pull that copier entirely apart and put it back together perfectly; without break a sweat or a nail, but the copiers throughout the building were leased and therefore under no circumstances was Felicity to “ _tinker with them_ ”; or at least that was what the internal memo to her had stated, quite categorically.

So, she logged the fault and sat back in her rolled back chair, allowing herself just a moment of fantasizing _Hot Arms_ banding those wide, muscly limbs around her entire body and hoisting her up onto the cool, glass plate of the copier and doing at least five things that would absolutely void the warranty on the machine.

A _ding_ of a new email message startled her from the part of her fantasy where Hot Arms was coyly smiling as his tongue weaved up the inside of her thigh; and Felicity cursed herself for leaving that obnoxious little sound on.

The email was to _all_ and Felicity groaned at its existence by the subject alone. She had been dreading it, knowing that it loomed over her days like an ominous cloud just waiting to make one of these December days wholly dark.

It was the office Christmas function.  
It was hell with mistletoe and drunk co-workers.

Every year it was the same thing. Granted, she was only basing this on the last 3 years she had been at Kord, but if she was working off percentages, it was a 100% strike out rate of being terrible.

She rolled her eyes at the thought of what this year would bring, undoubtedly middle aged women named Catherine or Beverly would ask her why she wasn’t married, someone probably called Leigh-Anne would then tell her how good the sex between a husband and wife could be – this despite the fact Leigh (for short) hadn’t had sex in the last 8 years and her lady bits were probably full of dust mites…

Felicity snorted out loud over the savagery of her own thoughts as she lamented verbally her need to get some coffee into her “stat” at the very same time as there was a rapt of knuckles on the IT Department door.

She threw herself upright in her chair making it shudder and almost slide out from underneath her rear as she slammed her fingers onto the keyboard and began doing little more than smashing random keys as she looked straight ahead and pretended not to notice the figure in her peripheral vision.

At least until they cleared their throat.

Felicity taped a smile to her lips as she turned in her chair, only for that smile to drop into a gape when the very attractive, very tall, very broad shouldered Hot Arms now with a very dreamy smile, that was almost a laugh, twitching at the corner of his lips, stood in her doorway.

“Felicity Smoak, my name is…” he started and Felicity held her breath waiting for the moment she would finally learn _Hot Arms’_ identity.  
“Is the copier guy here yet, that piece of shit is on the fritz again,” her supervisor, an idiot man with a bald head and a tiny man complex, complained as he jostled in through Felicity’s doorway and towards his own office, just behind hers.

“Uh, yeah, this is…” she left the way open for _Hot Arms_ to fill the gap.  
She watched his mouth open to give Felicity his name, but he was interrupted a second time by the same 5ft 3inch Greg.  
“Well good, but the copier isn’t in here, it’s down the hall,” Greg grumbled, practically shooing the poor guy with wide eyes and a now-drooping smile out of the doorway.

“I can show…” Felicity started and _Hot Arms’_ eyes lit up.  
“I’m sure Gavin can find his way down the hall. It’s not like he hasn’t been here fixing that tired old junk machine a million times before.”  
_Gavin_? Felicity’s face screwed up, if that was his name she would be better off not knowing, but when he opened his mouth and said “Actually it’s…”, Felicity knew her ignoramus boss was mistaken and her faith that _Hot Arms’_ parents called his something sexy and strong returned.

Felicity waited with baited breath to hear the rest of _Hot Arms’_ sentence but, because the fates seemed to be toying with her today, he was interrupted yet again, only this time by some flirty brunette in a mini skirt and _Basic Instinct_ heels.

“I’ll take you to the machine,” she purred as she, very inappropriately in Felicity’s recollection of sexual harassment laws, folded her slender arm through his large, trunk-like bicep and ushered him away, although he did leave her with an apologetic smile.

_Hot Arms would stay Hot Arms._

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

It was almost 30 minutes later when Felicity was standing in front of the brushed chrome doors of the elevator, humming a song she couldn’t remember the words to as she swayed gently, heel to toe, just waiting for the elevator to arrive so she could leave for a coffee dash.

“Hi,” came a smooth, dulcet tone from behind her left shoulder.  
Felicity froze as her lips burrowed inside her mouth and her eyes stayed locked in the forward position, scarily unblinking.  
“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble before,” he continued and Felicity felt herself starting to turn slowly – _she was twenty-three years old for fuck’s sake, she could at least look at the man_ she told herself sternly.

“Its fine, you didn’t. He always sounds like he has a stick up his ass,” Felicity prattled before her eyes widened at the mutiny-like words that came from her mouth, “I mean, um, Hi.”

_Hot Arms_ smiled broadly in a smile that also filled his cheeks and brightened his, already flawless azure, eyes.

“I’m …” the sharp sound of his phone ringing cut him off just as the doors opened.  
He looked more flustered than her as he decided what to do. Looking down at the display on the phone his lips pursed and he stepped away from the elevator, “sorry, I have to take this.”

Felicity stepped into the lonesome elevator cab with a slight of hand wave and a soft, “Bye,” before the doors closed in around her.

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

Felicity absolutely, categorically regretted her whim, but as she stood clutching the two coffee cups and the brown paper bag of more muffins than she needed, she was left with only a few options:

Firstly, she could scuttle back to her office, close the door and drink both cups of coffee. She’d need to use the bathroom at least 12 times before lunch if she did that, but the embarrassment level would be low.

Secondly, she could do exactly what her whimsical idea of buying _Hot Arms_ a coffee and a muffin had intended for her to do, sashay up to him with a hip sway so sexually feline his jaw would dislocate, calmly hand him the take out cup with a charming quip she had yet to conjure up and a smile that was both sexy and charming, before she walked off with a wind machine making her hair the perfect amount of ‘billowy’ and _Hot Arms_ smiling lustfully.

Only that second thing probably wouldn’t happen that way… ergo her regret.

While the first option seemed like the best she would have to walk past the copier on her way to her office and while it was most likely that _Hot Arms_ wouldn’t notice her, it was a small risk that she wasn’t sure she was willing to take.

As the cab neared her floor she blew out an exacerbated sigh, she was a chicken without a wind machine, and she was going to do the first thing.

She lowered her head and prepared to walk, without looking up or to the side, back to her office.

The doors opened and she made it out of them without any issues – _check_.  
She started her walk with her _eyes_ scanning the floor looking for approaching shadows or feet that she needed to be mindful of – check.

She rounded the corner and refused to look up despite the plunking sound of rubber on metal.

“Hi again,” came that same, molten-liquid voice that felt like warm honey weaving down a scratched throat.  
At least she managed to stifle a groan.

“Hi again,” she replied, secretly rewarding herself with a smile at not bumbling either of those words.

She looked up as he was running a white rag up and down a paper roller he’d pulled from the stomach of the _demon_. Her eyes watched his hand, thick and long fingers coiled around a wide shaft, as he continued the somewhat lewd – although probably entirely innocent – stroking up and down motion, awfully close to the closure in his trousers.

He looked down and must have seen what Felicity did as his cheeks flushed red and he threw his hands reactively behind his back.

He looked positively wrecked, and the fact that at that moment Felicity was the cooler one of the two had her smile brimming from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry about before,” he grimaced as he rolled those broad shoulders in two tiny circles.  
“Which before?” Felicity asked, surprised by her impish reply, but going along with it regardless.  
“Getting you in trouble with the…” he gestured his hand to his waist, meaning the short fella, aka Greg, “…and then at the…” he pointed down towards the elevator, “…with my phone.”

She watched him pull one shoulder into a shrug and furrow his brow quite adorably.  
“…And whatever that just was,” he cringed as he held up the roller.  
“Well,” Felicity instinctively licked her lips and smiled, “Apology accepted for the first two things.”  
_Hot Arms’_ eyes widened with worry, “Just those two?”  
“I should probably apologise for the last one,” she winked, because it had after all being her wide eyed stare and licentious smile that had likely tipped him off to the inadvertently lewd motion, otherwise it was simply a man – _with hot arms and dazzling blue eyes_ – doing his job.

He chuckled warmly and it was Felicity’s turn to have slightly blushed cheeks.  
“Well in that case,” he started as he took a step forward, “I accept your apology.”  
“Your graciousness is appreciated.”  
“But I suppose I should let you go deliver that,” he remarked as he looked down at one of the coffee cups in her hand.

_She had two options._  
She didn’t need a wind machine – _too noisy anyway._  
And she was tired of being a chicken.  
“Actually, this one is for you.”

He looked bemused at first and Felicity considered, albeit briefly, retracting the offer and playing it off as some silly joke that fell flat, but then his face changed and his expression morphed into one of shy appreciation.

“For me, are you sure?” he asked softly, while he blinked around the empty area as though he was searching for a _joke’s on you_ banner.  
“I just thought,” she rolled her lips and half squinted one eye – _what had she been thinking?_ “maybe you might have been going to get one when your phone rung, so uh…” she jutted the cup out without spilling a drop, “…I mean if you wanted.”  
“I do want,” he replied in a husky voice that she hadn’t been expecting and by the way he cleared his throat soon after, neither had he.

But it was _fucking_ hot and Felicity felt one knee, for just a second, start to wobble.  
His fingertips touched hers when he reached for the cup and she wasn’t sure if she had been expecting them to be rough or smooth but the instant they made contact she noted that they were a perfect median of the two.

They chatted for about 10 minutes about nothing in particular until the hallway started to crowd with people returning from their morning break and a few hovering faces who were throwing death stares at the still-as-of-yet not-fixed-copier.

“Well, I should probably go,” Felicity sighed as she nodded down the hall that now felt like a trudge into the abyss.  
He nodded and looked forlornly back at the copier in pieces, “And I should probably…” his words tapered off but the idea was clear – They both had work to do.

“It was nice meeting you…” she paused, waiting for him to give her that illusive name because the ID badge he was wearing was too twisted and had the florescent light above him streaming onto it rendering it unreadable.  
He opened his mouth to speak when a willowy figure with arms like one of those inflatable waving things that car dealerships are so fond of, appeared in front of Felicity like SlenderMan.

“The Board can’t figure out PowerPoint,” he raged with sweat dripping down his forehead as he ushered her towards the elevators.

She wanted to turn around and scream out “ _Just tell me your name_ …” but instead, before she bundled herself into the elevator once again, Felicity tipped her head over her shoulder and offered him a bleak smile.

_Hot Arms still had no name._

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

Felicity was engrossed in the last batch of error reports that had found their way to her desk to reconcile as she swore under her breath at Kord’s willingness to have an open bar at a Christmas function, but utterly mortified at her suggestion that their servers were created when the Ark was built.

With the last report logged and ‘fixed’ with a band aid, Felicity felt the familiar gnaw of hunger pains in her stomach and she lithely stood up just as _Hot Arms_ appeared at her door.  
“Shit,” she reactively cursed when the object of four months worth of very lusty day dreams almost completely filled the door frame.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to uh...” his fingers itched the side of his neck in nuance.  
“You’re just, you’re here,” Felicity flummoxed.  
“I finished with the...” his eyes dragged back down the hall.  
“Oh, do you need me to sign something?” Felicity asked as she stumbled a hand onto her desk to collect a pen.

The pen, apparently coated in invisible oil, slipped from her grasp and tumbled onto the floor. She reached for it at almost the exact time as he knelt on one knee to pick it up like it was a fragile and irreplaceable antique.

Still on his knee he held the red pen up to Felicity, presented like a proposition that was usually followed by an _I do_. She walked around her desk and took it slowly from his hand before they both realised the Hallmark nature of the gesture and he sprung to his feet and brushed his hands down the front of his navy trousers.

“I don’t need anything signed,” he breathed as his hands hid behind his back, no longer willing to be a part of this awkward exchange that had a breath hitched in his throat.  
Felicity chewed the corner of her lip while she simultaneously tapped the pen against her temple.  
“I was going to get some lunch,” he continued, breathing deeply to calm the thumping in his chest.  
“Oh do you need some recommendations or...?” she blinked at him as she ferried her glasses back up her nose.

His nose crinkled as his lips parted to expel a soft sigh.  
“Actually,” he paused as he brushed his thumbnail over his eyebrow, “I was wondering if you would like to come.”  
Relief flooded his face as bewilderment filled hers.

“I’m sorry, this was weird of me, I’ll just...” he turned around in the door before Felicity was finally able to unfreeze herself.  
“Wait, you want to, lunch, with me?” it came out in broken English but he seemed to understand what she was asking as he shyly nodded to the intent.  
“A thank you for the coffee,” he shrugged playfully.

Something quite unusual came over Felicity at that moment, where she would usually run through a list of pros and cons in her head she had none in either ledger, and where she might hesitate, she had already collected her jacket and bag.

They walked in silence to the elevator before Felicity finally spoke up, “What’s your name?” she asked with a slightly cocked head and softly smiled eyes.  
“Oliver,” he replied and she nodded as though she had some sort of say in the matter.

_Oliver the copier guy._  
That was perfect.

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

_Lunch was a bust._

The cafe that was usually a ghost town had decided to inexplicably become the most popular haunt in a five block radius and the noise level meant any question either one attempted to ask had to be yelled across the table at least four times, which, needless to say, meant any reply had to be given the same way.

And then Oliver’s phone rang and he wore the same frustrated expression he had earlier when he apologised profusely thirty minutes in that he was on call and really had to go.

A big, fat, bust.

But he did offer to walk back to her building with her which while unnecessary (it was virtually next door) it was very chivalrous.

“Thank you for uh, lunch,” Felicity smiled as she waved the brown paper bag with the takeout gently to and fro.  
“It was a total bust,” Oliver chuffed out a kind laugh before his smirking eyes locked to hers.  
“I mean, I wouldn’t say total,” she hummed, as a flirtatious smile turned up the edge of her lips, “I’ve had worse first dates.”  
The second the D-word left her mouth she instantly regretted it, but it was out there now, _could she just retract it?_  
Well, she was going to try, “Not that this was a da..., you and me aren't,” her hands floundered in front of her, “sorry, I just, I’m going to stop talking now. Thank you for lunch Oliver, have a great afternoon.”

She turned around like a cadet during a drill and took one cautioned step towards the door, just in case the earth found it within it’s powers to swallow her whole right now.  
_She would appreciate that._

“You too,” Oliver offered as he willed himself to say something else, _anything_ else, to prolong having her in front of him a little longer, “Oh wait, something I forgot to ask at lunch,” she stopped and turned, “well, something I forgot to yell across the table with the hope you’d hear me and yell back an answer.”  
Her cheeks filled with a warm smile, “And what’s that?”  
“This morning when I came into your office you were frown-laughing at something,” he smiled at the recollection of her scrunched nose, “feel free to tell me its none of my business...” he had found the snort quite endearing and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what made it, “...but what were you looking at?”  
“This morning?” she ritualistically chewed her lower lip as she considered the question, “Oh, that would be the office Christmas party invitation for this Saturday.”  
He chuckled, “And you hate parties?”  
“No,” she feigned a pout before it blossomed into a laugh.  
“Christmas in general then?”  
“No,” she smirked, “just the questions about where my plus one is at such events.”  
He banded his arms across his chest, this was something that needed a backstory, “Oh really?”  
“It's a figurative bloodbath of personal questions,” Felicity groaned, “Catherine comes in with the ‘so where is your other half?,” she tried on a southern accent to add to the vibrancy of the tale, “And the look of pity poor Beverly has when I say there isn’t one, flabbergast meets repugnant, it’s really quite a beautiful blend of the two,” Felicity continued, dissecting the inevitable, “Last year one of them even suggested I consider freezing my eggs,” she huffed, “I’m 23.”  
She rolled her eyes quite by accident before she ended with a sigh, “Not even an open bar and a photo booth atone for the clusterfuck that is turning up to one of these sans a plus one.”  
“So this year bring one,” Oliver simpered.  
“Oh, Haha, yeah okay,” she playfully mocked, “Would you like to be my plus one?”  
“Sure-,”  
He answered the same moment she annexed, “I mean I’m kidding…wait, did you say sure?”  
Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth.  
“I Um…,” Oliver flustered, before he counted to 3 in his head _, 1, 2, 3...,_ “It might be fun to scare Betty.”  
“Beverly,” Felicity corrected, “Betty on 9th is a sweetheart. But if you weren’t serious,” she delved into his eyes looking for the will to retract everything he had just said, but she didn’t see anything like that.  
“I was serious.”

She let that sink in for a count of 6 Mississippis to see whether he would burst out laughing, but he didn’t, he just kept looking at her in a way that made her spine shiver and her chest warm.  
“Well, it’s on a boat which will leave the harbour at 7pm this Saturday,” she explained, blinking from the ground to his eyes at least five times, “If you’re there, you’re there, but if you can’t make it, it’s fine,” she casually twisted her finger around a section of hair, attempting to be blasé.  
He smiled, “I’ll make it.”  
“But if you don’t, it’s fine.”  
“I will.”  
She nodded as she started to walk a few steps backwards towards the glass doors, “Okay then.”  
“I will.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and Oliver offered a small wave.  
_He would._

 

**> >TO BE CONTINUED<<**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to leave this as an M because *I* don't *think* it is Explicit, but it's still gloriously smutty...

Felicity stood in the pleasantly-warm evening with just a gentle salty breeze lapping at her back and brushing fine blonde hair across her face. She had carefully chosen the up-do for its sensibility under the conditions as people rarely thought about how utterly distracting it was to have long hair whipping across your face while you cruised the harbour and pretended to look effortlessly chic.

The dress however was anything _but_ practical and she really shouldn’t have let Alena talk her into it, but her ‘little sister’ had and here she was, with her fingers relaxed at her side, skimming the hemline of the black satin dress, detailed with gold-sequined trim in a style reminiscent of a gladiator.

She tried not to look at her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes but she couldn’t help herself and before she knew it she was staring at the big hand when it clicked over, _6:40._

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

Oliver looked at his watch as he had done only seconds before, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised that it still read the same time, _6:40._ He blew out a frustrated sigh as the air around the cab filled with the pointless sounds of horns blaring – as if that would make whatever kind of hellish traffic jam they were in the midst of magically disappear.

He had been stuck in the taxi at a virtual standstill for at least 20 minutes and he couldn’t even see the harbour yet. He ran a finger around the collar of his ivory shirt before he fidgeted with the black tie Thea had insisted he wear for his “date” – he had tried to convince her it wasn’t that at all, but apparently his little sister wasn’t buying it, due in part to the goofy smile he’d been wearing all day and the way his voice became ‘high-pitched’ and ‘squeaky’ when he said Felicity's name.

But now, as he was sitting in the back of the taxicab watching the seconds tick over, both of those clothing choices were making it exceptionally hard to breathe.

“How much longer?” he asked, even though he knew the driver probably didn’t know any more than Oliver did – which was _absolutely nothing_.  
The man offered a bleak smile and an apologetic shrug, “I don’t know.”  
Oliver stared out into the falling evening before he pressed his head to the window and squinted at the distance, “How far away are we?”  
“A couple of blocks,” the driver surmised.  
Oliver took his wallet from his back pocket and handed the driver a $100.  
“Keep the change,” he offered before he opened the door and got out into the middle of gridlock.  
The driver wound down his window and smiled, “There must be an important woman waiting for you.”

Oliver shuffled the suit jacket from his shoulders and loosened his tie just enough to make breathing a little less restrained before he looked down at the driver and winked, “I sure hope she will be,” after which he took off running.

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

Felicity looked at her watch yet again as she chewed anxiously on her lower lip, deepening the scarlet colour where her teeth made trenches. The nearby boat, stacked with the few hundred employees and plus ones, sounded it’s foghorn warning as a few late comers scuttled towards the gang plank.

It was 6:50pm.  
The ship would leave in ten minutes regardless of the existential crisis Felicity was having on the dock.  
She sucked in a breath as Sara looked at her curiously, “Are you coming?”  
One arm banded reflectively around Felicity’s waist as her teeth dropped her lip and she struggled to form them into a smile, “In a minute.”

She saw Sara look around and it became fairly apparently that she knew Felicity was waiting, in the failing light and the gathering breeze, for someone who hadn’t shown up yet.

“Well okay,” Sara spoke softly, careful not to let her words float to other ears as they walked past, “I’ll have a cocktail waiting at the bar for you,” she continued before she leaned closer and added, “the most expensive one they have.”

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

Oliver couldn’t breathe and he was fairly certain he’d gone a bright beet-red shade across his entire face as he rounded the last corner onto the sign-posted pier. His heart was thumping into his ribcage and his throat was sinewy with exertion, but he wasn’t about to stop.

Until something caught his eye about 20 feet away; and he stopped, _suddenly_.  
  
She hadn’t seen him yet as she was looking a little over her shoulder towards the gently lapping ocean. One arm was wrapped around her waist, the other swaying by her hips. Her dress was dark, black he assumed but it could have easily being a dark shade of blue or green, it was in a fabric that reflected the swaying string of fairy lights above her and they reminded him of the clear, starry skies he would lie in the clearing near his parents cabin high in the mountains and stare at until he’d memorized every constellation. She had a small bag clutched in her hand with one finger stroking the soft suede fabric of it in some sort of relaxation technique, _she was nervous_ , that realisation made Oliver feel a little better about the 20 minutes he’d spent pacing his apartment floor while Thea threw a barrage of questions his way.

She looked stunning.

And then she turned around and he forgot everything including his name and how to control any of the limbs he possessed, because he just stood there, with a mouth slightly gaped and eyes as wide as saucers, staring at her, until the ship's loud foghorn assaulted the air and startled them both.

On legs that felt like jelly after his sprint to the pier, Oliver took a few steps forward, smiling as she became clearly with each step he took. Her blonde hair was swept back, with delicate tendrils of curled hair framing her porcelain face. Her eyes were smokey, but even with the lashings of mascara used to create such a look – and he knew because Thea insisted on spending copious amounts of time in his bathroom (the lighting was better) applying hers every morning – the stunning blue of her eyes weren’t at all shadowed or drowned out.

He shuffled his jacket back on and tightened his tie as he took two more steps which put him barely a foot from her, studying her crimson pout. It was darker than any colour he had seen her wear during the day but it suited her so well that Oliver, for a moment, found himself wondering if there was such a thing as commissioned lipstick.

“Hi,” Felicity breathed softly, her warm breath spiralling out a column of smoke into the cool air.  
She tried to keep her eyes on his but when his hands shifted at his side, her eyes escaped her control and wandered over his body.

He wore a black suit in a fabric that Felicity was dying to touch to discover whether it was as luxuriantly soft as it appeared, his shirt was a creamy ivory which warmed his skin tone much more than a stark white would have and his tie was black with a dark grey embossed pattern that looked like a fancy French wallpaper.

Every inch of the suit was impeccably tailored and Felicity didn’t imagine it had come _off the rack_.

“Hi,” Oliver answered in a rasped voice that was still struggling to breathe normally.  
She smiled her crimson lips, “You came.”  
“Yeah well I didn’t want to miss Catherine, she sounds like a blast,” he replied sarcastically with an exaggerated wink.  
Felicity nodded along with the joke as her lips popped into a soft _oh_ , “she will be pleased.”

“Shall we?” Oliver offered the crook of his elbow and Felicity slipped her arm through it, relishing the decadently rich fabric of his jacket as it brushed her bare arm.  
_Definitely not off the rack._

**< <<<<\--->>>>>**

Felicity was a little tipsy.  
Not in a way that her thinking was impaired or she wasn’t fully in control of her body and mind, but enough to feel that buzz that gives you a burst of confidence you wouldn’t ordinarily have.

That’s where she was at, alluringly confident and very aware of her boobs.

She had been listening to everything Oliver had told her; two parents, divorced, mother remarried, one sister, younger, currently a huge pain in his ass after moving into his apartment, but he loves her in spite of that. No pets, but considering a pug. She wasn’t supposed to laugh at that bit, but she had, just a little, but only because the idea of those huge arms carrying a tiny pug was adorable beyond words.

He listened to her run down in return; crazy mother she wouldn’t dream of trading in for the world, absent father, no siblings but a ‘good deed' little sister who had become her best friend and roommate. Always wanted to own a rooster, he laughed, she couldn’t blame him.

She was sober enough to hear and retain all of this and as far as she was aware she was cognitive enough in her own replies. She was definitely not drunk.

But she had the insatiable desire to kiss him on those big, pillowed lips he wore so beautifully on his Adonis-like face with perfect cheekbones and eyebrows that made his expressive blue eyes seem more mysterious in the evening.

She imagined those god-like lips would be soft and that, at first, his kiss might simply feel like air brushing against her mouth, but that would only last a moment before he would anchor a hand to the small of her back and grasp her hair at the scalp, just enough to make her mouth widen and her chin tip upward and then he would kiss her like a famished man unable to control himself a moment longer.

She imagined their tongues battling while her hands never found a place to settle but rather wandered haphazardly over his chest before clawing at the tie he now wore a little loose around his neck.

And he’d moan.  
And she’d moan.

“Mmmm,” she dreamily moaned.  
“Pardon?” Oliver asked, confusion threaded through his arched brows as he looked back from the ocean to Felicity.  
“Oh nothing,” Felicity shuffled her black stilettos across the polished deck as her knuckles turned white while she gripped the decking railing in one hand and her suede clutch in the other, “just breathing in the salt air,” she lied as she attempted to mimic the same sound but it came off sounding more like a Wookiee than anything else.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as he looked down at her white knuckles, “Did you want to go inside?”  
She peeled her fingers from around the railing and flexed them to get the blood moving again, “No, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t sure if it was her impractical shoes on the polished wooden deck or whether it was a sudden wave that rocked the 78' Triple Deck Catamaran, _Lady in Red,_ or a combination of both of those things together with the three cocktail buzz she was nursing, but irrespective of the cause, Felicity stumbled forward on the bottom deck.

Her hand slapped his chest, and it make a kind of _thud_ that both felt and sounded like slapping a solid brick house and she found herself whimpering as she imagined just how solid he must be under that suit for such a worldly sound to have been made, and, on top of the sound that resonated all the way down between her legs, she couldn't help but notice he didn’t flinch, _he didn’t even fucking twitch_. He was solid.

“Sorry,” she whispered as she went to retract her hand.  
Oliver took a breath and before he had gotten to _3_ he made a choice and put his hand on top of hers as she started to move it away, “Don’t be.”

The moment felt surreal and in some Disney fuelled haze, Felicity thought he might kiss her, and maybe if she just could have kept quiet a few moments longer, he might have. But something suddenly occurred to her, “I don’t know your last name.”

Oliver released her hand and it slowly drifted from his chest and floated between them before he touched his tips to hers and they did a silent dance until he turned his palm up and she laid her hand on top.

He smiled as Starling’s lights twinkled in the distance and one particular illuminated skyscraper caught his eye, _typical_.

He cleared his throat and looked down at her small hand resting on his. He’d never considered his hands overly large but holding her dainty pearlescent tipped hand in his, he looked like a giant.

“It's Queen,” he answered softly as he watched the wind dance wisps of her hair across her face.  
She chuckled to herself as her lashes fanned out across her cheeks and her eyes stole a few moments to memorize how completely his hand could swallow hers if he coiled his fingers up.  
“Any relation to the billionaire family?” she jested, a warm chuckle still laced through her words.  
Oliver’s cheeks blushed and his chin dropped to his chest while his head swayed.

“Actually...” he started and Felicity stopped laughing almost immediately, practically choking on the last half chuckle, “That would be my father.”  
Felicity’s hand slipped off his as her arm went rigid at her side, “Oh, I,” she blinked rapidly trying to come up with some sort of way to smooth her surprise over, but all she had swimming in her mind was one question...  
“You’re wondering why I fix copiers for a living?” Oliver asked, a gentle laugh stealing some of the awkward stagnation between them.  
“Nooo,” Felicity lied, before she thought better of it, “okay yes, yes I am. I’m sorry, is that really pretentious of me?”  
A light dusting of pink warmed her cheeks from the inside out and her lips furrowed into an apologetic smile.

“Not at all,” he remarked as his elbow rested on the railing and he looked out towards his father's empiric building, “but I do have a confession to make.”  
She dropped her head towards her shoulder and lifted a perfectly arched brow towards her hairline, wordlessly asking for his confession.

“I don’t actually _work_ for the copier place,” he admitted with an awkward smile that showed his perfectly white teeth.  
“What is it then, billionaires’ business outreach?” she asked with a puzzled smile.  
“Well, _I'm_ not the billionaire, my parents are, so no, not that,” he ran a tentative hand through his trimmed beard, “I actually own the company. After I finished college I bought a small business, worked with it and then sold it and I’ve been doing the same ever since, the copier business is just the latest of my ventures,” he concluded with a humble sweep of his hand through his hair.

“Don’t you have a trust fund or...” Felicity voice trailed off when she realised how rude she sounded, and she wished she could take it back.  
But Oliver didn’t seem to mind, “I do, but I don’t inherit anything until I’m thirty. Both of my parents thought it important that my sister and I learned to work for what we have instead of just expecting it. She takes it a little harder than I do, but a holiday to the south of France every year seems to brighten her spirits.”

Felicity’s lips were smiling and her eyes were wide with awe.  
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked nervously.  
“I’m just wondering why you still do all the hands on work and the callouts?”  
“Uh,” he sighed as his eyes dropped to the floor, “I actually don’t.”  
“Yes you do, that’s how we met,” Felicity chuckled as she slapped his arm playfully.  
“I really don’t,” he replied softly while his eyes anchored to hers, “I just have the _one_ exception.”

He didn’t actually need to say it, but a part of Felicity wanted to be sure nonetheless.  
“Me?” she breathed before she corrected herself, “I mean Kord, but why?”  
“You answered your own question,” he replied as his fingers betrayed him, pointing towards her instinctively.  
“You go to Kord, because of me?” she squeaked the last word as she watched his smile broaden.  
“Not the first time,” he offered as a nervous swipe of his tongue wet his bottom lip, “the first time, your usual guy was away sick, I didn’t have anyone else and I thought I might know enough about the machines to attempt something, or at least show up then say I had to ‘order in parts’,” he explained, complete with air quotes, “and while I was there I saw a girl who took my breath away when she smiled at me, the Copy Guy that no one really notices.”  
“Me?” she whispered, her voice almost faded into nothing.  
“You,” he admitted with a genuine smile danced over his lips.  
She shook her head lightly, strands of hair sticking to her lips “But I’m no one.”  
Oliver freed a strand from her lips and smiled, “Not to me.”

“So all this time...” she sighed, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together.  
“I took every callout Kord had in the hopes that one day I might ask you out.”  
“But the phone call at the elevator?”  
“My sister, she had just broken up with her boyfriend and wanted to know if she could put CDs into the gas fire.”  
“And the call during lunch?”  
“That was work related, I’m in the process of selling the company on and I really needed to take the call.”  
She shook her head as she laughed lightly and her cheeks felt like tiny flames, _all this time..._

“You don’t believe me?” he asked gently as he tried to read her expression.  
“I do, I just,” she breathed out another laugh, “all this time...”  
“You don’t know how many times I tried to psych myself up to talk to you, and I don’t know if admitting all this to you is adorable or creepy in your eyes, I really hope it’s the former, but I’ll understand if it’s the latter,” he said as his hand slid along the railing a little closer to hers.  
“It's the former,” Felicity admitted before she chewed in the corner of her mouth, “and while we're admitting things,” she continued after she took a deep breath and stepped closer, “I’ve had a crush on you for just as long.”  
“Really?” his surprise was endearing.  
She nodded with her lip caught between her teeth as she stepped another half a step closer, “Really.”

“I’d really like to kiss you,” he whispered, inching his face a fraction closer.  
“Okay,” her lashes fluttered softly against her cheeks.  
“Was that okay to the question or to me kissing you, and by asking you this second question did I just go and make this kind of awkward?” Oliver grimaced at the word vomit coming from his mouth.  
Felicity smiled warmly, “A little.”  
“I swear, I’m usually much better at this normally,” he cooed, “Maybe I could start that again?”  
“Okay, where would you like to start from?” she asked with a coy smile flirting the edge of her lips.  
“About here,” Oliver whispered as he leaned in closer, smoothed a finger under her chin, tipping it upwards, and waited with their lips now barely an inch apart, until Felicity came the other ‘20%’ and closed the gap.

The kiss was soft at first, just as she had imagined it would be. His lips were warm and slightly moist, both of which made them feel like silk against hers. His nose gently nudged her cheek and his chin delicately grazed hers as their angles changed and the kiss deepened. The hand that had brushed under her chin now lightly sat against her neck with his thumb gliding into her hair.

She kept her eyes closed as her hand fell against his chest once more, but there was no _thud_ this time, just the sensation of a soft moan passing from his mouth to hers when her palm slid down the taut slopes of his jacket.

When they were both starved for air, they pulled apart, breathless and almost gasping, with their eyes locked to one another.  
“Wow,” he sighed as the tip of his tongue tasted her from his lips.  
She blushed while her hand smoothed up his chest and over to his shoulder, “Could we… uh…. That again?”  
He leaned down again, but this time Felicity met his mouth half way for a kiss that soon evolved from the slow, languid and gentle one from before into a needier one that found their lips crashing together and hers parting to let his tongue swarm her mouth, filling it quite adeptly and very pleasingly.

Her fingers tightened over the ridge of his shoulder as she lifted herself higher against him, until once again the need to breathe overtook them and their lips fell away, more panted and breathless than the first time.

“Wow,” Felicity sighed this time, leaving her lips parted.  
“Maybe again?”  
He leaned down to scoop her lips onto his for a third time just as the door flung open and a raucous crowd of party goers invaded the lower deck.

“Ohmygod it’s the copy guy, come Monday I am smashing up the copier,” a drunk middle aged women announced before she gulped back half a glass of bubbly wine.  
“Well that wouldn’t actually get me called out,” Oliver grimaced as he felt Felicity shrink behind his back.  
“You can refill my toner?” another woman winked, or at least attempted to before a third woman in the crowd groaned loudly, “Really Janet? That wasn’t even very good.”

Oliver stepped away from the crowd with his body almost shielding Felicity before he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”

She looked at him with pleading eyes and an _I thought you’d never ask_ smile, before she took his hand in hers and they scurried away from the crowd before anyone noticed. The first floor room was brightly lit up and filled with the echoing noise of employees feasting on free buffet food and playing fake casino games with chips that wouldn’t be worth anything come the night's end.

There were no quiet corners or anywhere that would afford them any scratch of privacy. Felicity took a sharp left as Oliver followed and moments later they were navigating a small corridor beneath deck. When the noise tapered out and they wouldn’t be seen from the top of the stairwell, they fell against the oak-veneer wall in a passionate flurry of desperate kisses, much more rushed and hungry than they languid first one.

With his back to the wall, Oliver's hands hovered around Felicity's waist, unsure where he should, or could, touch her, until she took his hands and stamped one to the small of her back and the other she glided onto her cheek, where it had been before.

His fingers grazed over the cusp of her ass making Felicity moan “Yes,” reactively into his mouth while her hands gripped his large arms. He took a chance and, hoping he read the situation right, he slid his hand a little further down her rear and squeezed.

Reflexively Felicity did three things, firstly she bit his bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth and soothing it with her tongue, then her leg lifted in his grasp, tucked her thigh against his waist and coiled her leg around his like a snake and lastly, in a move that had Oliver groaning against her mouth, she bucked her hips towards him and skimmed the outline of his throbbing cock along her thigh.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as their lips pulled apart.  
“You’re not married are you?” she asked, breathless, as she instinctively thrust her body against his.  
His head tipped back against the wall with his eyes rolling back momentarily before he towed it back and answered, “No, you?”  
She shook her head fervently, “No.”  
“Good,” he sighed as his hand slid over and under the hem of her dress.  
He gulped as his skin touched hers, stilling at her thigh while he waited for consent to slide it any further.  
“Girlfriend or Fiancée?”  
He shook his head, “No, I’m single.”  
_Very_ came to mind, but he kept that to himself.  
“Same,” she breathed, very measured and calm given how feverishly they had been making out only moments before.  
She slid his hand a little higher up her leg until just the pads of his fingers were touching the supple round of her ass, dangerously close to the lingerie she had worn, not exactly to be seen but because a gorgeous pair of lacy panties and a matching bra were staples in feeling pretty damn good about yourself, and if they happened to be felt by a guy in the cramped hallway of a catamaran filled with work colleagues, well that was just an extra bonus.

The next question came from the tiny voice inside her head that sounded a lot like her mother. Not only was it a question worth asking when you were contemplating doing what Felicity’s aching lady parts were wanting her to, but a man's reaction to the question could give you a hell of a lot of insight into the kind of man he was, so... she asked it, “STIs?”  
Oliver didn’t balk at the question and neither did it scare him or give him reason to pause as he came up with an answer. He just answered it, truthfully, “Never and I was checked last month.”

Felicity smiled, he passed the _watch a liar squirm_ test, so she offered him an equally honest answer, “Also never and about 2 weeks ago.”  
She moved his hand a little higher before she kissed his puckered lips.  
Oliver hummed when his fingers slid over the soft chiffon lace of her panties. He was aware he was only touching the very edge of them but they felt like paper in his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wonder if they might tear if he held them too tightly.

“Criminal record?” she asked with her lips still pressed to his.  
“I got cited for public intoxication in college,” he answered as though her kiss was a truth serum.  
“Who didn’t honestly?” she smiled as she bucked her hips against him, making his hand slip higher and his reactive groan thicken the air.

He could practically feel the heat radiating from between her thighs as it melted into his fingers and had his throbbing cock aching behind his designer pants.  
“Wait,” Felicity peeped, her leg dropping free of him and sending his hand slipping out from underneath her dress.  
“Oh, right, yes,” he mumbled, gathering his wits about him as he tried to swallow ever lewd thought he was having.  
“No,” she smiled as she tugged on his jacket lapel, “I just mean…” she spoke, smoky and warm as she nodded towards closet a few feet away.  
They scurried the few steps to the door and Oliver pulled it open, only to slam in again seconds later with a hasty apology when it became very apparent the closet was already _in use_ by two people in the throes of passion.

There was only one other door in the passageway and that one was locked.  
“Oh, well I mean, that’s okay…we probably...” Oliver started to say, as he tried to disguise the disappointment in his tone.  
“Shut up and follow me,” Felicity teased as she took his hand and ran back towards the stairwell they had come down before.

She didn’t bother to look around the first floor, it was still as noisy as it had been before and she doubted any secluded spots were to be found there. She jogged them both up the next flight of stairs which led to the middle deck. It was dark, but for the laser lights that shone down on the dance floor and the strobe lights above that cast that end of floor into a freeze frame capture.

It was loud, the DJ playing a mix of songs that Felicity didn’t see the need to try and recognise and there were a fair few revellers dancing along to the same, but... at the far end of the large room was the photo booth that had been the fun, but short-lived, fad at the beginning of the night; and it wasn’t yet late enough to be crowded with the drunk people getting a few “end of night” shots which they would undoubtedly regret when they were stuck on the staffroom noticeboard.

Oliver looked a little perplexed as they stopped outside the deserted vintage photo booth, in front of a table of props that were exactly what you’d expect, together with a sign warning that the booth was currently unattended.  
“You want photos?” Oliver leaned down and asked directly into her ear over the sound of the music which, while it had tapered off at that end of the room, it was still slightly ringing in his ears.  
She smiled as she pulled back the floor length heavy velvet curtain and tugged him inside by the tip of his tie.

The stretched fabric and plywood walls surprisingly held a lot of the noise out, so while it was still very much there, their ears had either adapted to it or the booth had made it fade a little more into the background.

“What are we...”  
But before he could finish his question, her lips were wrapped around his and he was sitting on a leather bench with Felicity straddled over his lap.  
“We're not taking photos are we?” he smiled as her lips dragged along his chin and down his neck.

She slid his jacket from his shoulders and hummed at the way his shirt clung to his muscular arms, the very same ones she had envisioned around her naked body. Her fingertips skated over the mounds of muscles as she guided the jacket down his arms, as much as she would like to have discovered them _skin to skin_ their locale didn’t allow for that.

She slipped off his lap and took two steps to the camera and with its dull screen below it. Carefully she spread his jacket over the lens which was circled with “look here”.  
“Just in case,” she laughed as she watched the smile on his face light up brighter than the umbrella light that bathed the tiny darkened room in a rich white glow.

There were probably a list on cons to this crazy idea in her head, but Felicity didn’t listen to a single one as she slipped her hands up under her dress, hooked her thumbs over those pretty, confidence-boosting panties and dragged them down her legs and over her shoes, one at a time.

Oliver smacked his lips together as she walked the two small steps back to him in the cramped booth, set the panties on the leather bench beside him and settled herself back onto his lap.

“This is crazy,” he whispered into her ear before his lips dropped down her swanned neck.  
“Absolutely insane,” she sighed, just above the drone of the music, as she raked her nails through his hair.  
His lips dropped away from her warm, lightly perfumed skin as he looked her square in the eyes, “Do you want to stop?”  
She considered his words for a moment? _Did she?_  
Her lips answered for her when she leaned in and pressed them gingerly against his wet mouth.  
“Not a chance,” she added into the kiss as her hips rolled against his tented pants.

“I really like you Felicity, I don’t want to do anything you’re not sure of,” he remarked as she positioned his hands on her thighs and drove them under the skirt of her dress.  
“I’m not drunk,” she laughed as her finger swept her lipstick from his lower lip, “ask me a math question.”  
“Square root of 480?”  
She thought for only a few moments before she answered, “21 point 9, give or take.”  
Oliver laughed somewhat abruptly when he realised he had no idea if she was right or not, “I don’t know the answer,” he admitted.

“I like you too Oliver, and if we could get off this boat and go back to my place or yours, I’d do that too and I know this is a little unorthodox but,” she leaned in and kissed him again, “I might like unorthodox,” she danced her fingers around the buckle of his belt, “that is if you like a little unorthodox too?”

Moments later his pants were sitting loose around his thighs and his hands were gripping her ass while their lips were busy devouring each other. Between heated groans and ragged sighs, Felicity titled her hips and brushed his cock against his leg.

“I don’t have a condom,” he huffed, on the verge of sobbing when he realised he had scoffed at Thea’s suggestion to carry one.  
“I do,” Felicity replied, smiling as she remembered her annoyance at Alena’s insistence at making sure she had _at least one_.

Her hand dipped into her clutch and returned with a foil packet that caught the light and looked almost magical in Oliver's hungry eyes. He tore it open and deftly sheathed his cock behind it, while Felicity pretended not to look but stealing at least three glances at his long, hard shaft that had her walls clenching in anticipation.

His hand hovered over her breast before he lowered it onto the tight satin bodice. His eyes twitched as he couldn’t made the fabric bend around his hand, he was usually very good at the foreplay part of sex but keeping most of their clothes on didn’t make many allowances for it.

“It’s okay,” Felicity smiled as she nudged her breast into his palm, “it really isn’t necessary,” she admitted impishly, she was pretty much ready to go and while she was certain she would have enjoyed those large hands working their way over her body, she wasn’t _that crazy_ so as to not remember where they were and this spontaneous moment needed to be a little _wham, bam._

She took his cock into her hands and watched the sigh leak from every facet of his face as she gently swept it between her legs, while she hovered slightly above his lap. With her skirt hiding most of what she was doing from their view, Felicity rolled his head in small circles around her clit, giving her the exact amount of pleasure to arch her spine and tip her head back. Oliver moved both his hands to her waist, to give her the ability to lean her body into his until his tip was balancing on the cusp of her entrance.

When her head snapped forward again and her knees tightened against his thighs, Felicity slid him into her entrance, holding his cock steady until he was halfway enveloped in her. The hand holding his shaft dropped to her ankle for balance while the other one tethered to Oliver's broad shoulder before she took him, with gasped lips, entirely to the hilt.

Oliver could feel her stretching around him and each inch she took made him moan until he was completely swallowed inside her cushioned walls and he let out a guttural groan that rumbled from the very pit of his stomach.

And then she moved, slow at first, a gently swaying rock of her hips that barely moved him in and out, but did, quite deliciously, skim his head against her pulsing walls. A few minutes later, as perspiration glistened on both of their heated foreheads, she sped up, thrusting and lifting off him before sinking back onto him.

“Go-d-dah,” he stammered as his fingers tightened around her hips and his mouth sought out hers.  
They kissed roughly, while Felicity continued to buck and ride Oliver, twisting and tilting her hips to move his cock around her, touching each and every delightful spot she could, until, minutes past and the speed wasn’t enough and her body craved for more.  
“Harder, faster,” she begged roughly and Oliver immediately answered.

With his grip sliding up to her waist for better control his fingers dug into the lux fabric of her dress and, when her wild eyes met with his, Oliver began to pump her body onto his.

The first pummel stole the breath from Felicity’s throat and she could do little more than whimper at the insanely euphoric feeling that shot up her spine and felt like thunder reverberating down her legs until her body, which felt almost ragdoll-ish in his hands, fell into a delirious rhythm with him.

 _God_ , her body wanted to writhe and stretch as her arms reached out behind her. Her fingertips climbed the veneered panel below the lens, her head so engulfed with pleasure that she didn’t notice one hand tug on the edge of his jacket while the other tripped over a little square button.

Oliver didn’t notice either as he looked down the perfect arch her body made above him and his only conscious thought was how amazing that view would be sans clothes.

With a flick of his wrists he whipped her back upright and catapulted his lips onto hers in a needy and desperate kiss that was a gnashing of tongues and teeth that lasted only briefly, a minute at most.

The change in position saw the base of Oliver's cock press into Felicity's wound nub in a sublime haze of friction and movement that pushed Felicity over the edge into a climax that found her biting down on Oliver's tie to attempt to silence the explosive scream of pleasure that shook through her entire body before every inch of her convulsed around him.

And, coincidentally that was also the exact moment the first picture was taken, half shielded by Oliver's jacket and mostly a blur of Felicity's back and the back of her whipping head.

The second shot went off only seconds before Oliver’s ass clenched the leather bench and he muffled his own climatic cries into the warmth of her elongated neck, now radiating with a mouth watering delirium of her heady scent.

The third and fourth shots caught their slumped bodies hugging into each other as they both rode out their orgasms in slowing strides and heavy pants.

And when the last of her trembled waves rode over his drench cock and filled condom, Felicity lifted her limp body off Oliver's, almost stumbling backwards in her shoes if it weren’t for Oliver catching her hips.

He guided her to the space on the bench beside him and Felicity slumped like a string puppet against his shoulder.  
“That was definitely unorthodox,” she sighed as she slowly caught her breath.  
“Very,” Oliver grinned, there was actually not a thing he could have done to wipe it from his face even if he wanted to.  
He rolled the condom from his softening cock, and tied it off before he realised he had absolutely no where to put it.  
“Oh,” Felicity quipped as she reached her hand into her deceptively large clutch and returned with another of Alena’s _must takes_ , a tiny snap lock bag.  
Felicity made a mental note to ask the adorably quirky 19 year old she had known for near on 5 years, just how in the heck she’d learned these _hacks_ when she got home.

Oliver thanked her with a blushed smile before he courteously looked away as Felicity slipped her panties back on. In lieu of anything else, Oliver dried the shaft of his cock with the tail of his shirt before he tucked it back into his briefs and tugged his pants back up.

“So, that happened,” Felicity breathed, before her lips curled into a smile.  
“I’m glad it did,” Oliver replied as the music began to lull outside the booth.  
“We should go,” Felicity quipped before her eye caught the screen and it’s “ _your photos are ready_ ” message.

“Fuck,” she squealed before she cupped her hands to her mouth.  
Oliver flew off the bench and tugged up his zipper in the blink of an eye before he scrambled out of the photo booth and around the back where he found the returned photo booth attendant looking befuddled by the two identical photo strips he held in his hands.

Oliver pulled his wallet and quickly counted its contents.  
“I’ll give you five hundred and seventy four dollars right now if you give me what’s in your hand and never say a word of it to anyone,” he bargained, although he was entirely prepared to wrestle them from the young guy, who undoubtedly did this as a way to pay for college, if he needed to.

The young man looked at Oliver, shrugged and nodded as he handed them over. Oliver emptied his wallet into the waiting hand before he stepped away and looked at the photos.

There was really nothing to be seen, his jacket had covered most of the lens and neither of their faces could be seen, but he was still glad to be holding them in his hands.

“How bad?” Felicity mumbled with her hands in her palms.  
Oliver took his jacket from where she had put it and wrapped it around her shoulders.  
“Can’t see a thing,” Oliver assured her as he put them in front of her.

She squinted and turned her head side to side before she finally sighed, “good.”  
“I can tear them up,” he offered as Felicity stood up.  
She brushed past his shoulder as she walked alongside him.  
“Or not,” she answered with a lopsided smile and a wink.

She plunked one of the strips from his hand and nestled it into her bag with an impish smile.  
_She was keeping hers._

 

**> >THE END<<**

****

**Author's Note:**

> Quick FAQ  
> * Do I take requests? Ummm sure flick me a job title on twitter (but only that, I like to spiral the feck out with very little information)
> 
> * Will you continue these? If they're one shots they will stay that way.
> 
> * When will you update? I don't know... when the mood takes
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.  
> Twitter / Tumblr @someonesaidcake


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